Dressed to Digress
by wolfenqueenyuri
Summary: In which a bet is lost but much more is won. Or: Phasma doesn't care for dresses…or dancing. But with Kylo at her side it's not nearly as bad.


Author's Note: On AO3, I'm putting all my Kylo/Phasma fic into a series that I'm calling "Partners, Lovers, Equals". I chose this name because it's exactly how

I view the pairing: equals on every front. It also seems like this series is an excuse to write the two of them in as adorable scenarios as I can manage, but I do have some darker ideas for them too. I just haven't really given them a lot of thought yet. I'm a romance writer at heart and that's what I'm most comfortable with. Anyway: I hope you all enjoy my latest excursion with them.

* * *

Dressed To Digress

"You are a horrible person, Kylo Ren," Captain Phasma grumbled, struggling to get the bodice of her outfit to cooperate with her personal modesty standards. "And I hate you."

"No you don't," she heard him chuckle, and she could just _picture_ him sprawled out over the couch in her living quarters, feet propped up on the matching ottoman.

Her frustration with him only grew when she peeked her head out from her bedroom to confirm her suspicions. "Remind me to never gamble with you again."

"Hey, you were the one who suggested the pod-races. You really should have known better," he smirked, and damn him: it was sexy.

Then again, lately she was discovering that she found just about everything about him to be so.

Sighing, she moved back inside, gave her outfit one final look in the mirror, and then, after taking a deep breath to steady her nerves: she walked out to where he was.

At first, he said nothing; in fact he seemed frozen in place, his dark eyes widening significantly as they took the sight of her in.

Then, slowly, he stood.

She fidgeted with the skirt of the gown, the fine fabric whispering through her finger tips. "Say something."

He stepped towards her. "Wow…just. **WOW**."

Flushing, she brushed an errant strand of hair back over her ear. Normally, she kept her short, pale-blond locks gelled back due to having to wear a helmet. For this particular look, however, she had purposely tousled it so the natural waves would add some volume.

The dress itself was simple, yet beautiful: a black, strapless number that laced up, corset style, in the back. The bodice was adorned with silvery, pearl-like beads, and the skirt was made up of multiple layers of silk.

Thanks to the heels she wore underneath the dress, she was a few inches taller than her lover – **lover,** she was still getting used to thinking of him that way – but he didn't appear to mind.

Kylo moved closer, his full lips curving into a sultry smile. "You look _amazing_. I almost want to skip the gala and stay here," he reached out, stroking along the curve of her bare shoulder.

It was tempting – deliciously tempting, actually – to take him up on the offer. In fact it was taking all of her will-power not to shove him back down on the couch and have her way with him. The effect he had on her thanks to a mere _touch_ was intoxicating.

Phasma bit back a moan and caught his hand before his fingers could continue their downright torturous trek along her skin. " _You_ got me into this, Kylo Ren. I'm counting on you to bail me out of it if the need arises."

He pouted slightly. "What if your needs aren't the only thing arising right now?"

She glared and punched him in the shoulder.

He hissed in pain and rubbed at his arm. "Okay admittedly, I deserved that."

Her response was to roll her eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the edges of her currently ruby-colored lips.

Kylo extended his other arm out to her. "Shall we, then?"

Phasma nodded and linked her arm with his.

* * *

Formal galas were something that the Stormtrooper Captain would never define as a comfortable experience.

The second she and the Knight of Ren walked through the doors of the ballroom, she felt like all the eyes in the room were scrutinizing her.

Kylo's hand was warm and reassuring once it came to rest upon her own. She turned her head to find him smiling warmly. "Relax. They're all marveling at your beauty."

Her heart skipped a beat. For the greater part of her life, she had only thought of herself as a soldier, so she had never really considered herself beautiful. However, at that moment: with the man she loved at her side, she felt, to use the old earth saying: "like a princess".

It didn't exactly hurt matters that Kylo played the part of her "prince" very well. The regal-looking dress robes he had traded for his normal garb flattered his tall, lanky form. His dark hair was combed neatly and styled so as not to obscure his angular, unusually handsome features. The only visible flaw was the scar that crossed from his forehead all the way down to his jaw. She was one of the few that knew the true story behind the wound, though that was mainly because if he had told anyone else that he had received it while fighting a woman, it would have made him the subject of ridicule.

He looked her way again and she blushed as she was caught staring.

His smile only seemed to grow. "Come on…" he took her hand in his and began to guide her towards the dance floor, which was already a sea of couples.

Immediately, her discomfort with the situation came crashing back. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"It's called a _dance_ for a reason."

She gulped when he spun her to face him and placed one hand on her waist. "Kylo, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"Let me guess, you don't know how to dance?"

She was quite certain that she was as red as General Hux's hair. "It's not exactly something one learns in training, no. But it's not just that. Everyone is _watching_ us."

"My dear Captain," he drew her close, so that her chest was nearly pressed against his. "They're all staring at _you_ , and rightfully so. You're a vision."

Before she could reply, the music began and Kylo led her in a waltz.

She was vaguely familiar with the steps, having watched old-Earth films in holo form that included forms of dancing, but it was the first time she had attempted one herself.

Though she stumbled a little, she was attuned to the movements of his body, both from sparring together and other, decidedly more _intimate_ activities.

The music swelled as they found their tempo, and soon the entire ballroom became little more than a blur. All that mattered was the look of delight in Kylo's dark eyes and the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"See…once you get the hang of it, there's nothing to it," he grinned.

A genuine, bright laugh escaped from her. "I wouldn't say that, but I suppose it helps to have the right partner."

His gaze softened and they slowed down. "Is that what I am?"

Her heart, already beating rapidly thanks to their dance, jumped in her chest. "I think you already know the answer."

"Yes, but I'd like to hear you say it for once."

She licked at her suddenly dry lips. "Yes, Kylo…you're the _perfect_ partner."

He looked very much like he wanted to kiss her, right there in the middle of a crowd of people that they both barely knew.

To her own alarm, she realized: she was willing to let him.

They had stopped dancing. He brought one hand up to her face, his fingers stroking lightly over the soft skin of her cheek.

A pleasant shiver eased up her spine, but she caught his hand with hers before anything further could happen. "Not here. Let's go outside," she whispered.

Kylo nodded and, together, they made as discreet an exit as they could towards the nearest balcony.

* * *

Almost immediately after they stepped outside, Kylo grasped at Phasma's arm and pulled her into a shadowy alcove.

"Ky—

He cut her off before she could finish saying his name, his mouth capturing hers as he pressed her back against the closest surface.

She moaned quietly, her fingers sliding into the thick waves of his hair when the embrace deepened.

They became utterly consumed with one another: Kylo hoisting her up against him as hands wandered and nips and bites were exchanged between kisses until they finally had to pull away, breathless.

Bright blue eyes met deep, dark brown ones as the couple attempted to regain some semblance of composure.

And then the mood was effectively blighted when a familiar voice stated: "You really should find a better hiding place."

Mortified, Phasma glanced over Kylo's shoulder to find General Hux observing them.

She probably would have been _less_ embarrassed had her legs not been wrapped around her companion's waist.

Carefully, Kylo set her down and they both faced their fellow Commander.

Hux didn't seem in the least bit concerned about the state they were in. "You are both requested. Make yourselves presentable and then come back inside."

With that: he left them as abruptly as he had come.

It was silent for a long moment before Phasma found her voice. "Be honest: did you sense that he was there before he announced himself to us?"

"…Yes, but I chose to ignore him."

"Next time, don't." She rubbed at her temple for a second before looking closely at him. "Stay still for a moment," gently, she rubbed her thumb over his lips.

"What was that for?"

"You still had some of my lipstick on your lips."

He couldn't help smiling and they took the time necessary to adjust their looks before heading back inside.

* * *

The rest of the evening went by smoothly, although Phasma would have preferred that the ambassador who requested several dances with her had not been quite so handsy.

Humorously enough: Kylo had suffered his own discomfort thanks to the ambassador's teenage daughters, who had all taken a shine to him.

Once they were able to politely excuse themselves for the evening, they practically raced back to her quarters.

Phasma's first act upon walking inside was kicking off her heels with a relieved sigh. "Remind me next time to wear flats. These were painful and it was weird being several inches taller than you."

"I didn't mind the extra height, but I could tell they were paining you after a while," he removed his boots and overcoat before flopping recklessly on the couch and patting at the spot next to him.

Too exhausted to chastise him for knocking her furniture out of alignment, she gathered up her skirt and sat next to him, tucking her feet under her legs before leaning against his shoulder.

He tugged her close to his side and nuzzled at her hair, his lips grazing her forehead.

Sighing quietly, she tilted her chin back so she could meet his mouth, her hand coming up to card through his hair as they kissed lovingly.

He pulled away first this time, his eyes glittering playfully. "How about I draw us a bath?"

"That sounds heavenly," she smiled, stealing another kiss before standing up and reaching her hand out for his. "I'll need help getting out of this rig anyway."

"I was hoping I could participate in that," he smirked and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"I figured you would want to take part," she teased, though she was more than happy to pull him with her into the bathroom, where conversation would cease and they were allowed to focus on what truly mattered: namely, each other.

The End


End file.
